Chapter Eighteen
“Those are de Shera banners.”
The declaration came from Kress. He, Alexander, Achilles, and Bric were hiding out on the small main street of the town of Longton, High Street it was called, watching the approach of the incoming party from the north.
As soon as they entered the town and the gold and black banners could be seen, Kress recognized them.
De Shera had arrived.
“What?” Alexander hissed. “Why on earth would they come here? I told them we would be arriving at The Paladin. They knew we were coming to them. Why are they here?”
Kress didn’t have an answer. All he knew was that he didn’t like what he was seeing, not by any stretch of the imagination. His men were hidden all over town with the instructions not to move unless they saw the knights move. And Kress had no intention of moving.
At least, not now. Not when they were so seriously outnumbered.
He had to think fast.
Quickly, he motioned to Bric and Achilles, across the street.
The two knights, bearing crossbows, swiftly moved across the street and back into the recesses of The Crown and Anchor Inn before the de Shera army saw them.
The group was just coming in on the far side of town and had to make a small turn around a bend before the rest of the avenue would come into view for them, so Bric and Achilles made it just in time.
All four knights slipped into the inn.
The common room was empty because Alexander had discussed the approach of the army with the innkeeper, who cleared everyone out. A group of armed men was never a good thing, so the four knights watched from the windows as the de Shera army drew closer and closer.
In fact, it was quite interesting.
“Kress, are you seeing this?” Alexander whispered. “Look towards the rear of the column – those are Welsh warriors.”
Kress strained to catch a look. As the heavily-armed column moved down the street, he could, indeed, see men in long tunics and hose, with crossbows strapped to their backs or pikes in their hands, riding on sturdy, shaggy horses.
They appeared sorely out of place among the well-dressed de Shera army, but their appearance wasn’t entirely surprising.
“They have come to greet their Welsh princess, I suppose,” he said after a moment. “It looks like a sizable delegation, but I must admit that I am displeased they decided to come and greet her after we told them that we would bring her to them.”
Alexander was watching the army, slowing as it neared the inn. “They must be very eager to meet her,” he said. “Mayhap they simply could not wait. She has been separated from them for quite some time.”
“That is true. It looks as if they are slowing down.”
Alexander nodded. “Being that this is the only decent hostel in the town, I would wager to say that they will assume we are here. That is logical.”
Kress nodded slowly. Not only was he displeased, he was extremely displeased. Even though he and Cadelyn had settled things between them, the truth was that they weren’t settled at all. Not in the least.
He was resisting the urge to take her and run.
He’d separated himself from the woman because he thought it was the right thing to do for them both, but the truth was that it only made him long for her more.
For two days, he refused to go into the inn, instead either remaining with his horse in the livery behind the inn or going across the street to the big barn where most of the escort was lodged.
He’d put distance between them.
Even so, he’d lay awake at night, thinking of the feel of her skin or the smell of her hair, or those big, dark eyes when she looked at him.
And the dimples… they were positively adorable.
It was something that made him smile just to think on.
She was young and fiery, intelligent and passionate…
there was nothing about her not to love.
And he didn’t want to let her go.
Now, he was facing the de Shera escort and he simply wasn’t prepared for it. Even looking at them made him feel embittered as he’d never felt in his life. The problem was that by all rights, Cadelyn already belonged to de Shera. He knew that; everything about him knew that.
But her heart belonged to him.
He turned away from the window.
“Let us sit and wait for them,” he said, jaw flexing with emotion. “If they know we are here, then they will come.”
Alexander watched the army come to a halt in the street outside and he could hear men shouting. He peered down the road, as much as he could see, realizing there were at least a couple of hundred men.
“Why did they bring so many men?” he wondered, turning away from the window himself and following Kress over to a table near the hearth. “I am very curious why the earl brought so many heavily-armed men.”
Kress didn’t reply as he sat down. He simply lowered himself to a bench, staring straight ahead.
Alexander and Bric sat opposite him, with Achilles sitting next to him.
Alexander really didn’t notice Kress’ lack of response because Bric said something to him and he engaged in conversation with the man.
But Achilles’ noticed; he’d noticed Kress’ ticking jaw when the man had sat down.
Now, Achilles sat looking at him as Kress stared straight ahead.
Alexander and Bric were still speaking on the number of men de Shera brought, and the need for such a thing, when Bric happened to glance at Achilles.
Achilles had a concerned expression on his face, which made Bric look to see what had him so concerned.
Alexander was still chatting away when Bric thumped him on the arm.
When Alexander looked at him, curious, Bric lifted his chin in Kress’ direction.
Now, they were all looking at a man who was struggling not to fall apart.
“Kress?” Alexander finally asked. “What is the matter?”
Kress acted as if he hadn’t heard him. Then, he seemed to shake himself out of whatever trance he was in and looked to Alexander.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Alexander sighed faintly. Like the others, he knew that something was going on between Kress and Lady Cadelyn, but he’d hoped whatever it was would go no further than a harmless flirtation.
But he also knew that Kress had spent most of the night in the woman’s chamber two nights ago.
Still, he’d ignored it. He really didn’t want to deal with something that everyone knew and no one talked about.
A knight who was about to fall.
He didn’t want to face it.
“Is there a problem?” he asked after a moment.
Kress looked at him. Then, he looked at Bric and at Achilles, realizing they were all staring at him. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat softly.
“No problem,” he said. “Bric, mayhap you should go and tell the lady that her intended has arrived. She will want to make herself presentable.”
Bric started to stand up but Alexander put a hand out, stopping him.
“Nay,” he said in a low voice. “Bric is not going anywhere. Kress, we are all friends. We have all been very close and we have all seen life and death together, too many times to count. There is an escort of two or three hundred de Shera soldiers out there and I want to know if we are soon going to find ourselves in a battle against them.”
Kress’ first instinct was to deny everything and feign outrage, but he couldn’t seem to manage it. It would have been stupid to; furthermore, it would have insulted men he had a great deal of respect for. He would not do that to them.
After a moment, he hung his head.
“Is it that obvious?” he muttered.
Achilles, who was by far the closest one to Kress, leaned in to him. “To me, it is,” he said quietly. “I think it took Sherry and Bric a little longer to catch on, but I have known you for a very long time, Kress. How bad is it?”
Kress closed his eyes a moment before answering. “Bad,” he whispered. “Very, very bad.”
“Bad enough that we shall be holding the line while you and the lady escape?”
Kress lifted his head. “Nay,” he said, sounding weak and beaten.
“I wish that was the case, but the lady and I have had a long discussion about it. She understands her obligations and I understand mine. I have worked too hard to ruin everything at this point in my life. I could not bring shame upon myself like that.”
“Not even for her?”
“She is the only one worthy of my considering such a thing, but she is far too great for a simple knight like me. Her destiny is far greater than being a lowly Executioner Knight’s wife.”
Achilles could hear the sorrow in his voice and it touched him. He put a hand on Kress’ shoulder in a comforting gesture.
“I am sorry, Kress,” he said sincerely. “This cannot be easy for you.”
“It is worse than that,” he said, looking to Alexander.
“When you go with the de Shera army to The Paladin, and you must go with them to ensure the lady has been delivered to her destination, I will not be going with you. I will remain here with the wounded and you can return for me when your objective is through.”
Alexander, who had a little more experience with women, and was a little older and wiser, could see the pain in Kress’ eyes. He had been through enough in his life that he was familiar with such pain. Therefore, he wasn’t unsympathetic.
“As you wish,” he said. “If it is any consolation, I think we have all had that one woman who has gotten away from us. There is no judgement here, Kress. I am just sorry it did not work out for you in the end.”
It didn’t make Kress feel any better at all. In fact, it only made him feel worse. The way Alexander said it made it seem so… final.
“Where is her priest?” he asked.
Alexander gestured out in the direction of the street, puzzled at the change of subject. “In the Summerlin carriage,” he said. “Why?”
Kress looked at him, pointedly. “Do you know what he is doing?”
Alexander lifted his shoulders. “I am not certain,” he said. “He has his writing implements in the carriage with him and a bible, I think. Why?”